


Fight Night

by somethingaboutamoose



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Horror, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Better, M/M, Relationship Problems, Spoilers, Yikes, and also in which Jack messes up, and makes Bitty sad, just kidding there is no horror or violence, this is an outlet for the author's problems, this story is about being sad and then not being sad anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingaboutamoose/pseuds/somethingaboutamoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everyone expected the wind to rustle, the cold to hurt, and floorboards to crack. Everyone expected couples to fight." </p><p>Jack and Bitty are together, and couples have troubles from time to time. These two simply have a different way to deal with said troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. So this story was supposed to be completely silly and humorous, but since your main gal here is a bit depressed at the moment, it turned into something of an outlet of my emotions. Could you possibly imagine what could possibly be wrong. Anyway, here is the first part of my 'Fight Night' series. 
> 
> This is dedicated to my lovely friend, Nia, who not only helped me come up with the idea but an immense help and an anchor for me throughout all of this.

The loud murmurs of the house, the soft whispering of the wind blowing through the curtains, caused by the open window, and the creaking of the floor board, were not what he was afraid of. Eric took no notice to the slow, low voices, no mind to the low temperature of the night, biting air, or the thought of what may be lurking, causing everything to squeak and snap. 

No, the little things did not scare Eric. If anything, they comforted him. Reminding him that, at least, something was doing what it was supposed to. Everyone expected the wind to rustle, the cold to hurt, and floorboards to crack. Everyone expected couples to fight. 

But not like this. Couples did not fight like this. 

Eric sat, leaning against his door on the floor. He ear pressed against the door, he listened for the slightest sound. His heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest, the simple rise and fall of his breathing was enough to give him away alone. His breathing was staggered and shaky. And loud. 

This same breathing stopped when he heard footsteps close, so close, through the thin walls. Heavy, powerful, determined footfalls. Steps that had a mission, steps that-

“Eric,” said a voice, so similar to those footsteps, it was no wonder that they belonged to the same person, “Bitty, stop hiding,” 

Eric did not say anything. He wanted to call out-he did-he wanted to shout, to yell and curse. He wanted to scream and swear and let Jack know how he felt. Let him taste Eric’s anger. 

But he did not say anything. He didn’t want to blow his cover. And although he was angry, his sadness overpowered his spite.

Jack, suddenly, knocked on his door. “Eric Bittle, open up, I know you are in there.”

Eric could sense Jack’s hand on the door, sliding down as Jack knelt down, knowing where Eric was. Then Eric heard, so, so close. So close he could almost put his hand through the wall and touch Jack, “Bitty, come on.” 

Eric, however, did not do anything. He merely let off a shaky breath and pressed his forehead on the hard oak wood. 

What he wasn’t expecting was the door to swing open two seconds later. 

Eric fell forward on the floor and, above him, stood a quite furious looking Jack Zimmermann, expression deadly and fists curled up at his side. Eric scrambled to his feet. He found his footing and wiped his eyes, which were leaking slightly, then, then Eric got into a fighting position. He tightened his fists and held them out in front of him, ready to defend himself. Ready to perform the fight of his life. 

Jack, on the other hand, looked utterly confused. “Bitty. What are you doing?”

Eric does not respond, instead, he let out a grunt and swung his fist forward in a weak-willed punch. Not that Eric Bittle can’t hit, no, he can throw a mean one. This, on the other can, couldn’t have been really described as a ‘punch’. Alternatively, it was more as if he had propelled his arm forward while tears blocked his vision. Therefore, instead of hitting his mark (which was simply any part of Jack’s body), he went completely off course, hit air, and then tripped on his feet and tumbled forward. 

Jack caught him as Bitty fell and face planted to his chest. 

“Bitty, I already said I was sorry,” Jack said, wrapping his arms around the boy who had fallen limp on top of him. 

Eric reached up an arm weakly and slapped Jack on the chest. 

“No,” Jack muttered to himself, “This isn’t happening.”

Jack tightened his grip and then walked backward, dragging Bitty across the hallway to his old room. 

He took a few moments to fiddle with his key, which he has made a copy of, with one hand while trying to hold Bitty with the other arm. Until, noticing his struggle, Bitty simply took the key from Jack and unlocked the door for him. 

“Thanks?” Jack said. He took the key back, re positioned his grip on Bitty, and nudged the door with his leg. 

Bitty didn’t say anything but responded by lifting up his head and then heavily headbutting Jack in the chest. 

“Ow, stop,” Jack complained. He dragged Bitty inside the room and then sets (or drops) him down on the floor in an empty corner. 

Bitty managed scoot around and to sit down, criss-cross applesauce, his face in his hands. Jack then left the room. 

Nothing productive happens on the floor of Jack’s room, Bitty sat and picked at the carpet while resting his head on his free hand.

He was not bored for long because a few minutes later, Jack came back into the room. Jack, who also happened to be holding a ridiculously large amount of blankets, walked towards Eric and dumped all said blankets on top of him. 

“What the-” Bitty said. 

As he attempted to untangle himself from the pile of comforters, Jack ran around the room, completing a series of errands. By the time Bitty escaped, Jack had closed the door, turned off the lights, and lit a few candles (All of different scents as well. Really, Pumpkin Spice does not mix with Spring Sea Breeze) around the room. 

Jack then stripped his bed of pillows and blankets and comes over to curl up next to Bitty on the floor. 

They sit like that for a few minutes, in the dark with the glow of the candles illuminating the room, cuddled, well, not so much against each other. Bitty still wears a pout on his face, his arms crossed as he looked away from Jack angrily. Jack couldn’t tell if Bitty looked cute still, pouting while buried in blankets. 

“Bitty,” Jack said, softly, “I am really sorry,”

“You didn’t talk to me for two weeks, Jack.” Bitty said, his bottom lip quivering, “Two whole weeks. What did you expect me to think? I mean, I understand you are busy, with all your new NHL friends and tight schedule, but there was nothing. No ‘good morning’, no ‘goodnight’, no ‘I’ve been really busy lately, I’m sorry I can’t talk’. You can’t go from talking to me every single day to giving me nothing. I almost thought that you died if I didn't see you playing on TV. Which I still watched anytime I could.”

“I know, I know-” Jack begins before he is cut off. 

“And then, and then you just show up at the Haus, totally unannounced! Why couldn’t have texted me? Called me? Anything! I mean, is your phone broken or something?”

“No,” Jack said, “I just, I just haven’t been on my phone a lot. I’ve been busy, you are right. And some of the hotels don’t have very good service, and I’ve been so tired that I just don’t feel like texting a lot.”

That wasn’t enough for Bitty, “Jack, I’m sorry, but I’m your boyfriend. You can’t just leave me in the dark like that. Especially for that long. Communication is key, y’know? I’m not asking for constant conversation, I can’t even keep up with that myself, I have school still. I just, just need something to keep me going until the next time I see you. I mean, do you feel the same or...or…”

“No, no!” Jack said, “Wait, no, I mean yes. Yes, I feel the same way. I still care about you a lot, I’ve told you before.”

“Don’t just tell me, Jack, show me. Put some effort out, I can’t have a relationship with you by myself!”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Jack said, hanging his head down in guilt, “I’m sorry.”

Bitty uncrossed his arms and wrapped his fingers together, looking to the ground as well. He muttered, “I know,”

There was a moment of silence before Jack surprised Bitty by reaching out and wrapping him in his arms. 

“I’ll try harder?” Jack said, smiling down at the smaller boy. 

Bitty sighed into his arms and pressed his face into Jack’s chest, “You better, you mmmff,”

“What was that last part?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Bitty shrugged and then snuggled closer to Jack, “Oh, nothing,” 

“Bitty.” Jack stated. 

Looking up with a cheesy smile, Bitty said, “Yes, sweetheart?”

Jack smirked, and then, slowly moving his arms down, began tickling Bitty’s sides.

“Ah!” Bitty squeaked, “Stop!” 

Bitty wiggled, squirmed, and laughed. He fought against Jack, kicking the blankets that trapped them together. 

“Sta-ah-ah-ap!” Bitty chuckles, and then crawled backwards and hit his head against one of Chowder's (Shark covered) bookshelves, where a lit candle shook, threatening to fall.

Jack cringed, “Maybe this many candles are a fire hazard.”

“Ya think?” Bitty growled, but it was easily revealed as playful when he leaped forward and tackled Jack in the piles of comforters.  
Jack was expecting to be tickled, but Bitty took a deep breath and then melted in his arms. 

And that’s how they spent the rest of the night, focusing on each other’s breathing, heartbeats, and how they were going to fix this. For now, only for now, they would put that away, pack it up for another time, and simply hold each other from falling apart.


End file.
